Dreams
by blackcat911
Summary: Sherlock keeps having nightmares. John is trying to get to the bottom of it. Eventual John/Sherlock. Please Read and Review!
1. Dreams

_February, 12_

_I had another dream last night. _

_This one was somewhat different. In this one, I made it half-way down the street. In all the others, I can see the street, I can feel the rain being blown into my face, I can see all the shadows the street lights create in the dark alley-way. Yet I never move. I look around, I know I need to get to the end of the street, yet I don't. The streetlight flickers, and I wake up. Always the same._

_Except last night._

_Last night I did move. Last night I stood, I observed, then I moved. Seven steps. I took seven whole steps down the dark alley. Then-and only then-did the streetlights flicker, and I woke up. All the observations I made during the dream were lost, for I had but one thing on my mind: John Watson._

_I wasn't thinking anything particular about my roommate. I was simply thinking of him in general. And he was the only thing I thought of._

_I would see the yellowing light on the side of the street and wonder if John ever picked up the groceries. I would feel the rain cooling my skin and think of the time John had come home sopping wet and the first words out of his mouth were "Don't tell Mrs. Hudson." I would feel a chill run down my spine and worry for John's safety._

_With every step I would think of John. When the lights flickered, an odd sensation would nessle itself into the pit of my stomache, and when I woke up, my first gasp of fresh air would consist of his name._

_It's a wonder how I haven't been caught in the midst of waking up, soaked with sweat, obviously shaken, and panting Watson's name. We do live in the same flat, after all._

_I suppose I shouldn't complain, however, for I have no clue what I would say as an explanation. I cannot even explain it to myself. _

_Perhaps I'll try and forget about this reoccuring dream, and play some violin instead. I just memorized John's favourite Mendelsohn solo, and I would love to wake him up with it. Yes, I do believe that is what I'll do._

**Author's Note: This is the start of a chapter story. I do apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes in this, I don't have a spell-check or beta, so I can only pray my mind won't forsaken me (that much).**

**Disclaimer: Just face it. Neither Arthur Connan Doyle, nor BBC would ever bother to waste their precious time (incredibly precious for Doyle, seeing as he's been dead for over one hundred years) on Fanfiction. **

**Italics are Sherlock writing in a journal.**

**Please Review!**


	2. Nightmares

_February, 14_

_I fell asleep in a cab today. A cab with not only John in it, but Lestrade as well. And I had the dream while I was asleep._

_It was the same dream. The same rain, the same dark alley, the same yellow street-lights. I even managed to take five steps, this time. (not as many as seven, but still)_

_That is why I am ever so confused as to why my physical reaction to this reoccuring dream would be so panicked. _

_According to John and Lestrade, I was thrashing and all but screaming. I was whimpering and they swear they saw some tears, even though I know that's not true, because there was no physical evidence._

_They both grabbed me-Lestrade held my kicking legs down, whilst John shook my shoulders-and eventually woke me up. They were both very distraught over this ordeal. Lestrade seems to have decided that I have deep mental scarring, and feels guilty over the way he's treated me in the past. I would prefer to be insulted as before, however, instead of being treated like a fragile child, as he is doing now._

_John is also treating me with great care, but seems more suspicious and concerned than guilty. _

_Luckily, they both wrote me practically screaming his name as I woke, off as me hearing his panicked voice in my sleep. I didn't feel the need to correct them._

_If there was one thing to be gained from this event, it was the repercussion directly after my awakening._

_As always I was deeply disturbed by my dream, and showed physical signs of it. John and Lestrade both took in the fact that I had woken from a horrible nightmare sweaty, visibly shaking, and completely mentally out of it rather well. _

_John immediatley enveloped me in his arms, and started running his fingers through my hair, whilst whispering calming words into my ear. I didn't even register half those words, however, but seeing as I didn't even register where I was for a great bit longer, I consider my remembering ANY of those words a personal victory._

_Lestrade was somewhat in shock. Apparently, this is the first time he's considered my being human. I suppose he was rather put-out that he would now lose that bet I overheard him making, of whether I was an alien, or simply a robot._

_He came back-to far before I did, though, and tried to help the best he knew how. He put his large coat about my shoulders, shoved a thermos with some warm tea into my hands, and even rubbed my shoulder in what he must've hoped to be a soothing manner. _

_As much as I hate to admit to enjoying such an indignatey, I must say that a few minutes of John's and the officer's joined forces had me calmer than I've felt in years. Clutching to John's coat with my free hand, and nuzzling my face into his chest like a toddler might his mother, I finally calmed my heartbeat._

_"I do apologize," I gasped out, "I believe I must've fallen asleep."_

_They both let out breathy laughs, and John put his hand to the back of my head, gently pressing me closer._

_"You gave us quite a fright, Mr. Holmes," Lestrade had scolded. _

_He of course back-peddled immediatley._

_"Are you sure you're alright?"_

_I had nodded. For some reason, it had been rather hard to force any words out._

_"I'm sorry Lestrade, but we're both tired, and need a break. We'll come back to help on the case tommorow, if Sherlock is well enough. Until then, it's high time for us to return home."_

_I didn't even have the energy to argue. I had simply let their concerned questions be answered with reassuring nods, until I had nearly fallen asleep again._

_When the cab had brought us back to 221b Baker Street, I was greatly surprised when, instead of telling me to get up and walk inside, Watson quickly picked me up, and carried me inside. He did it with incredible ease, despite my hieght. _

_He surprised me, again when he didn't let go when he got to my room. Instead, he collapsed along side me on the bed, and held me closer._

_He had talked to me for the first time since we left the cab, then. He had whispered, "Sleep Sherlock. Sleep now, and don't have any nightmares. I'll stay with you. You're safe."_

_I didn't quite understand how him being in the same bed as me constituted as 'safe.' Someone could easily break in and kill us both. I didn't argue, though, because I felt safe. Instead, I snuggled impossibly closer to John, and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep._

_I didn't have the dream at all that night._**_**

**Author's Note: Here's the next chapter! I know you guys are reading this, and would very much appreciate if I get alittle feedback.**

**How's this: review and you get a virtual cookie!**


	3. Visions

_February, 19,_

_Every night I get closer. Seven steps. Eight. Nine. Every time one more step. Every time it's one less step than I need._

_I need to know what it is at the end of the street. What is calling me so._

_John is concerned. He hasn't said anything, but he asks me how I'm feeling nearly twice every five minutes. He is always making tea for me, and gives me _that look. _I really can't complain. He's been giving me tons more attention; even touching me more._

_He's not being very subtle. He would casually hold my hand for something, and his fingers would linger on my pulse line. He would nonchalantly brush some of my unruly hair off my forehead, whilst actually checking for a fever. It's like he's not trying to hide it at all._

_I've taken to falling asleep on the couch in the middle of the day. I always have the dream while I'm on the couch, and I know that if I get too worked up, John will be around to help me calm down. He's been doing that quite more often, lately. I do believe he's become accustomed to stroking my hair and whispering that it's going to be alright._

_What's really gotten me concerned, however, are the visions. I've started day-dreaming. I'm now seeing the nightmare, while my eyes are wide open._

_Poor John has dragged me home from a crime scene, or Scotland Yard far more often than he should be having to. All because I get chilled by the cold rain I feel hitting my face, even though we're inside. I can see the bending shadows, in a perfectly lit room. I complain about the awful yellow streetlights, in the middle of the day._

_It's no wonder why John is concerned. He must think I've finally lost it._

**There's only going to be six chapters in this, so we're already half-way through! **

**QUESTION OF THE DAY: I got today off because of the Presidential Election (you can vote at my school) and I was wondering how bad it's been in other countries? How many commercials and adds are you guys bombarded with about our election? Do any of you really care? 'Cuz I'm a good ole 'Mercan, and I hardly give a damn as it is. (Note: The fact that I'm too young to vote, probably has something to do with this, but still) **

**And, now that I've started a debate, and offened tons of people/made them lose hope in humanity, I'm off to eat cake.**

**Ciao!**


	4. Revelations

_February, 21_

_I got to the end of the road. Last night, I finally walked all the way to the end of the street in my dream._

_When I got to the end of the street, at first I thought it was a dead end. Then I heard a familiar voice call my name. I turned and saw another side alley to the left. I went down it, and felt a presense come up behind me, cornering me._

_"You're late," the voice had said._

_"I've been calling your name, and you never once replied."_

_I tried to speak, but I couldn't. Nor could I turn and see who it was that was speaking._

_"Why do you do this? Why can't you admit it to yourself? To me?"_

_I didn't have to turn anymore, for the person had walked up infront of me. _

_It was John Watson._

_Suddenly, I heard myself speaking._

_"Don't make me do this."_

_I didn't know what I was talking about, or what John was making me do, but that seemed irrelevant in comparison to observing the way John's eyes stood out in the dim lighting._

_"Why do you resist? You could be so happy," John's eyes almost looked pitying. I hated it._

_Then his hands were on me. He grabbed my shoulders and slammed me into the brick wall to the left. I was too stunned to fight back._

_Any idea of fighting back was immediatly forgotten, however, when he savagly attacked my mouth with his own. It was as though a switch had flicked off in my brain. I couldn't think. I couldn't fight. All I could do was kiss back, twice as fiercely._

_I pressed my body tight against his, pinning him to the wall. I've not the slightest when it was we changed positions. All I could think of was how good he tasted, smelled, felt. How perfect this was. _

_I broke off of his mouth, and kissed his chin. I made my way down to his neck, and started sucking and licking alternatively. He was delicious. I wanted all of him. This burning desire sparked in me, quickly turning into an inferno. I sucked as hard as I could, desperately marking him as my own._

_He moaned my name. The lights flickered. I woke up._

_I do believe I know what it is my mind was trying to tell me._


	5. Discovery

I took in the dark circles under his eyes, and knew it had happened again. He had had another nightmare.

_What am I going to do with you, Sherlock?_

I looked back at my newspaper, hoping he hadn't noticed my staring. Normally, I would never count on him missing anything, but lately, he's been off his game. I recently wore the same socks three days in a roe, and he didn't even notice. Something is definetly wrong with him.

The only problem is finding out _what._

There's no way I can get him to talk about it; he always completely avoids the questions, and changes the subject. It's as though he's embarrased.

What a ridiculous thought. Sherlock Holmes. Embarrassed. Ha.

I chance a glance at him and notice that he was watching me. He immediatly turned away, but I can see the faint blush painted on his cheeks. Maybe he _is_ embarrassed... Over what, though?

That notebook is the only chance at knowing.

Everytime he has one of those awful nightmares, he writes in that notebook. It's _got_ to say what's on his mind.

All I have to do is wait for him to fall asleep again, then take it. I'll have it back before he wakes up in a panic.

All I have to do is wait for him to fall asleep...

...Is he watching me again?

I'll have to be quick. And incredibly careful. One carpet fiber out of place, and I'm done for.

I ever so carefully creep around Sherlock's bed and watch his anxious face cautiously. I pause and frown at his tossing. Poor Sherlock can't even find peace while _sleeping_!

I shake my head and tip-toe over to his bedside table. There's the notebook, as it always is.

I flip it open, and start reading.

It's a dream-journal! I skip to the beginning of this month, and start reading.

_I hope this'll tell me what's wrong with Sherlock._

As I finish reading the last entry, I feel numb.

_Oh._

Does that mean...?He wants to...?

I carefully set the book back down, in a way befitting if it were an ancient, Holy relect, that will turn to dust if I hold it too tightly.

I then turn and stare at the man tossing and turning in his bed. I wonder if he's having that same dream?

I stare, and I watch my closest friend sleep in a completely restless manner.

The imagery of his last entry haunts my mind. I wonder what it would be like; to be pressed against a wall, pinned by Sherlock's body alone. I imagine the taste of his lips, the feel of his teeth, nibbling on my neck.

I blink, and suddenly I'm on the bed with Sherlock. I'm straddling him, leaning my face close down to his own.

_When did I move?_

I imagine what it would be like, to feel his tongue ghosting over my chilled flesh.

I'm impossibly close to his sleeping form now. Barely a hairsbreadth away. He's gone oddly still.

I stare at those perfect lips, wondering what would happen if I were to simply lean in and-

And that was precisley when Sherlock's eyes opened. He was awake.

**Duh, Duh DUUUHHHH!**

**Cliffhanger! **

**Sorry it took me so long to update this. There's only one chapter left, though! We're almost done! *sobs quietly in a corner***

**Thank you for all your reviews, YOU ALL GET VIRTUAL COOKIES.**


	6. Confrontation

I opened my eyes.

This dream had been very different. I wasn't in a street, but rather a hotel room. And John and I did much more than kiss. I had just fallen asleep in my dream, when I woke up in real life.

_Or am I still dreaming?_

I woke up to the beautifully close-up image of John Watson. He was leaning into me. All I had to do was lean up and..

"Oh, hello Sherlock. I see you're awake, now," he said awkwardly. His cheeks burned bright red, and for some reason I found this highly amusing, and highly...stimulating.

"Um...Hello, John," I said awkwardly. I blushed as I realized how close our current position was to my dream. I tried desperately to hold back the erection that I knew would start straining. _Why is he still straddling me?! Oh, __**God**__._

That's when I noticed what was out of place on my nightstand. My dream journal. With all of my nightmares, and the dream of us kissing in a dark alley recorded in detail. My eyes widened.

"S-Sorry," He stuttered, quickly scrambling off of me.

I sat up and tried to ignore the empty feeling that formed when we stopped touching.

"How much did you read?" I asked schooling my voice and face into passive emotionlessness. On the inside, I was a panicked mess.

He jumped, and glanced guiltily in the direction of my journal. He blushed profously, and avoided my gaze. He read my last entry, then.

"I'm really sorry, Sherlock. I was really worried about you, and I knew you wouldn't see a professional, or talk to me about it, and I had seen you writing in it before, so I thought that maybe you had written what was bothering you, but I didn't realize how personal it was, and-"

I decided to put him out of his misery, and interrupted his ramblings.

"Yes. Because a mysterious journal that someone keeps next to their bed, and doesn't allow anyone near doesn't sound personal at all."

He winced.

I felt my heart clench with guilt, but I honestly didn't know what to do. I felt embarrased, humiliated, violated, fear, longing...emotions had never been my stronge suit.

Watson suddenly seemed to come to his senses and composed himself. He squared his shoulders, set his jaw, schooled his face into a look of mild annoyance, and looked me straight in the eye. He was an army doctor, now. Not just some bloke guilty of invading his roommate's privacy.

"As your doctor, I am obligated to investigate the cause of your deterioration in health. If that means invading your privacy, so be it," he said firmly.

Then his eyes softened somewhat.

"As your _friend_, I was concerned. I want to help you, but I can't do that if I don't know what's going on," his voice was almost pleading.

"Well maybe I didn't want you to know!" I said it at a normal volume, but with enough sting to knock him off his game. The murderous glare might've been too much.

I couldn't look at him, anymore. I was close to tears at the heart-broken expression he now wore. I turned my face away, and looked at the ground. There were a few moments of silence, where I could feel his betrayed gaze staring me down.

"Well, I know now. Whether you like it or not, I read your journal, and actually know what all those nightmares have been about. You can either sit and sulk over your invasion of privacy, or you could suck it up, face the facts, and talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

I felt every one of my muscles tighten. I clenched my eyes shut and reviewed every possible reaction I could give that would make him forget what he had read, and let us go on living as we've been.

I moved a bit, on the verge of following through with one of my selected reactions. I looked up at his steady gaze, forcing myself to make eye contanct. I opened my mouth, and prepared the precise words. Unfortunetly, those weren't the words that came out.

"I love you."

Suddenly John was against him, pressing their bodies together.

"Now was that really so hard?" He asked a pure joy in his teasing voice.

Their lips crushed together in a passionate kiss, and Sherlock forgot about any nightmare he had ever had. All he could think of or remember was John; and that's all he needed.

**FIN**

**Oh my goodness I feel so bad about this. I thought that I had posted this last chapter weeks ago! SORRY! I STILL LOVE YOU ALL!**

**Anywho, it's over! Tell me if you liked the ending, and what you thought of this peice overall. **

**Sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes, I still don't have a beta or spell-check. **

**MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY CHANUKA AND HAVE A NICE KWANZAA! (and Winter Solstice, and New Year!)**


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